


and that's the thing about illicit affairs

by peraltiaghoe



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, LITERALLY, Ouch, Partners in Crime, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, but they're not actually soulmates, idk what this is but i couldn't stop myself from posting it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe
Summary: In a world where relationships outside of your assigned soulmate pairing are outlawed, Jake and Amy are not soulmates.But that doesn't mean they're not in love.work title, obviously, from taylor's illicit affairs
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 45
Kudos: 77





	1. clandestine meetings

**Author's Note:**

> got this idea last night and am posting this short chapter right now???? like 12 hours later, so that should let you in on how fully developed this idea is. yes i have a problem. no i am not okay. thank u for inquiring

Amy follows rules. 

It’s who she is. She’s always followed the rules. 

Amy Santiago was the kindergartener who kept other kids in check, the ever-present line leader arching her serious little eyebrows and pressing her finger to her lips to shush her classmates when they spoke out in the hallway. In the cafeteria, she’d always finish her sandwich before even _thinking_ about eating her cookie, watching with judging eyes as her best friend Jake traded his sandwich for another cookie and a pack of fruit snacks. She kept all seven of her brothers in check all the time, the third parent in the household, despite being younger than four of those brothers.

She colored in the lines, and she studied before tests, and she always made sure to look both ways before she crossed the street. 

Rules exist for a reason. Usually that reason is obvious, like how you stop at a red light to prevent a car crash. Even when the reason isn’t obvious, she follows the rules. If there’s a rule for it, there must be a good reason. She’s always been happy to make choices that she can feel good about. 

She _always_ follows the rules. She talks to Jake when he has a harder time following rules, reminding him of their importance. 

She always follows rules, so the first time she’s faced with a situation where she explicitly doesn't want to follow the rules, she doesn’t know what to do. 

And of all the rules Amy could break… She chooses a pretty big one. 

“We’re not soulmates,” she whispers. 

She’s seated on the edge of Jake’s bed. His eyebrows pull together, this little wrinkle forming between them. His hands are still on her waist, and he’s still leaned in close, and she can still feel the way his lips felt pressed to her own. 

“I know,” he whispers back. She can hear the emotion cracking in his voice. “But you feel it, too, don’t you?” 

She looks at him, eyes wide. 

He shakes his head. “Ames, tell me you feel it, too. I’m not crazy, am I?” 

She stares at him for a moment. 

She knows. She _knows_. 

She _always_ follows the rules. 

And yet, instead of replying, she finds herself leaning into him again. 

She feels it, too. She’s felt it since they were kids. 

_The spark._

The spark that you’re only supposed to feel with your soulmate. 

Jake Peralta is not Amy’s soulmate. She knows that he’s not. She _knows._

And yet she can feel the spark crackling between them, embers burning hotter as she leans him back into his unmade bed. His fingers tangle through her hair, and his hands pull her closer, and the whole time, she knows she isn’t his soulmate. 

She knows it as she takes off his shirt, then quickly sheds her own. She knows it as his lips stray from hers, press against her jaw, and her neck, and her shoulder. She knows it as he rolls them over, his hand gentle on her face as his hips press into hers. 

She knows it when she finds herself lying in his arms, nothing but his blue comforter separating them from the cool air of his bedroom. 

Her breath is shaky, and she isn’t sure if it’s from exertion, or emotion, or the fact that’s been bouncing around her mind from the second they finished. 

“So…” Jake whispers. He echoes her thoughts. “We broke a rule.” 

But they didn’t break a rule. They broke _the_ rule. 

And it isn’t just a rule. It’s a law. 

She feels the spark tingle up her back as his fingers trace up and down her spine, and even so, he isn’t her soulmate. 

The tears are spilling over the edge before she can stop them. 

He brushes away her tears with the pad of his thumb, pressing soft, silent kisses to her forehead. She can feel his tears rolling onto her when she buries her face in his neck. She weaves her fingers through his hair, and she can’t tell if she’s trying to comfort him, or herself. 

He shushes her softly, his fingers stroking through her hair. She’s never been held like this before, and she doesn’t want it to end. 

He doesn’t tell her that it’s okay. 

It isn’t okay. They both know it. 

She wants to remember this. The texture of his hair between her fingers, the feeling of his breath on her neck. The emotional rasp in his voice when he says her name, the conviction she feels in each kiss he offers her. _The spark._ She wants to remember this, because it can never happen again. 

She’s in love with him. He’s in love with her, too. She can feel it in every touch, every kiss, every word he shares with her. She’s known it for years. 

But saying it out loud will only make this harder. 

She always thought it was him. She always wanted it to be him. 

But it isn’t. 

And she just broke a rule.


	2. what started in beautiful rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we get a lil backstory on our lil baby friends and! a thing happens 
> 
> also apparently i'm sticking to illicit affairs lyrics for chapter titles for now, we'll see how long that lasts 
> 
> ¨̮

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what i'm doing here guys i just keep writing things ??? check in on ur writer friends they're not okay

Jake Peralta belonged to Amy Santiago long before he knew that soulmates were a thing. 

They met at the ripe old age of seven. He transferred to her school in the middle of the year, about a month after his father had left. He walked into Mrs. Alguin’s third grade class, and it turns out that even the class clown gets a little shy when he’s thrown into the fire with not a single friend. 

Lucky for him, Mrs. Alguin’s resident teacher’s pet had both an open seat next to her and a knack for welcoming new students. He took his seat next to a little girl with two long, dark braids. She shushed him when he talked to her during class, but she smiled when he whispered knock-knock jokes to her during their free time. 

He forgot his colored pencils on that first day. He could see the judgement woven into her eyebrows, but she offered to share her pencils, anyway. She handed him her red colored pencil—to color the explosion he was drawing, of course _(there were no explosions in the Ice Age, Jake)—_ and that’s when he felt it. 

_The spark._

They didn’t know what it was then, of course. He isn’t sure how to even describe it. It’s kind of like a little static shock, but more pleasant. It’s an electric warmth, energy transferred from her fingers to his. It’s nice, but it’s jarring—especially that first time. They both drop the pencil, staring at each other with wide eyes. 

And the rest is history. 

Amy quickly becomes his best friend. 

They were always so different, but they complemented each other so well. He was the silly to her serious; she was the thoughtful to his careless. 

It didn’t take long for Jake to figure out that there were three unequivocal truths in his life: Die Hard is the best movie to have ever been made, pizza is a necessary food group, and Amy Santiago is always going to be a major part of his life. 

He never questioned it beyond that. They never talked about the spark. It simply was. As time went on it just became commonplace. If they were playing tag with their friends, he knew that a tag from Amy would carry a little extra sensation behind it. If she fell asleep on his shoulder while he was making her watch Die Hard for the thirtieth time, she’d jolt awake for a moment, ultimately drifting back off once the little shock dulled into the comforting buzz he’d come to enjoy. 

As they got older, he found himself looking for excuses to feel her spark. He’d scooch closer to her on the bus so that their arms brushed together, or he’d hook his arm with hers as they were walking to class, or he’d nudge her when he made a joke, all just so he could feel that little rush. 

He isn’t sure exactly when the first time it felt like more than that was. He has such a specific memory of her arms around his neck as they danced together at his bar mitzvah, of the warmth of her fingertips brushing against the hair at the nape of his neck, of her soft, shy smile when she stepped on his toes. 

But they were always just friends. 

Jake knew about soulmates, of course. He knew that Amy’s older brothers were slowly meeting their soulmates, had been to some of their weddings. He knew that Amy’s parents were soulmates. He knew that his parents were supposedly soulmates, though that hadn’t stopped his father from abandoning them, never to be heard from again. He always fielded Gina’s talk about soulmates, how important they were, how she couldn’t wait to find hers.

Jake and Amy were different. 

They never talked about it. Amy was always so swept up in other things—things that she reminded Gina were so much more important than _soulmates_. And Jake just… didn’t care. He hadn’t been raised much around the subject of soulmates, what with a father who abandoned both his soulmate _and_ his child. 

And he didn’t think _Amy_ was his soulmate. He didn’t even know the spark was a thing. He just knew that with Amy, he felt something that he didn’t feel with anybody else, and that was among one of the many reasons that she was his favorite person. 

It wasn’t until they were fifteen years old that Jake figured it out. 

Their high school held a big assembly in the gym at the end of their freshman year. A soulmate seminar. 

Officials came in and explained everything, and despite Amy’s insistence that soulmates weren’t important, she hushed Jake when he made jokes throughout the presentation. 

It was then that they learned about the soulmate process. Soulmates were predetermined and out of anyone’s control, but a government committee expedited the process by pairing soulmates together early on. They take out the guesswork, giving you your soulmate’s name so that nobody has to wonder if they made a mistake. It was a very serious process, and one that high school freshmen were not allowed to be privy to. When your soulmate is assigned, a letter is sent to your family containing their name. 

That’s the part that had most of Jake’s classmates chattering. _Did their families already know who their soulmates were?_

But Jake’s mind was stuck on another piece of information entirely. 

_The spark._

Soulmates feel a spark with one another when they touch that they don’t feel with anyone else in the world. Jake and Amy exchanged glances when the official announced that. 

Amy’s hand found his underneath the table, weaving their fingers together. He squeezed her hand gently, the little buzz between them intensifying briefly. 

Everyone else was worried about some envelope, worried about whether or not their families had said envelope stored in a safe place for them. 

Jake wasn’t worried at all. 

Amy Santiago is his soulmate. 

And your soulmate is the only person you’re legally permitted to be with. 

And that… isn’t alarming at all to Jake. He always knew that Amy would be a major part of his life forever, after all. 

They don’t talk about it after the assembly, either. They’re friends. Best friends. And their relationship isn’t adapting just because they know what their future holds. Jake’s perfectly happy being Amy’s best friend, even if he _does_ find her smile distracting in a different way than he used to, and even if he _does_ want to hold her hand sometimes, just to feel the spark, and even if he _did_ have that dream where he kissed her just that one time. 

But something between them changes by their senior year. She’s still his best friend, and he doesn’t think that’s ever subject to change, but there’s something _more_.

He likes her. Like, _likes her_ , likes her. Which, of course, he knew was coming. But he hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. It’s like one day he woke up, and Amy wasn’t just his smart, particular best friend anymore. She was still his ridiculously smart, particular best friend, of course, but… 

God, had she always been this pretty? Surely she had been. But how come he notices it so much more these days? How come when they’re alone, he gets these weird little butterflies in his stomach? How come the glances they exchange feel like they carry so much more lately? 

They hadn’t talked about it, so he wasn’t sure exactly how Amy was feeling about everything—but she knew. That little hand squeeze at the soulmate seminar let him know that she knew, too. They were closer than ever, and he wasn’t imagining it, he knew she was finding extra reasons to feel the spark lately, and of course they’d always been physically close in platonic ways, but something felt different about the way her hand found his so much more frequently these days. 

He was going to ask her to prom, he decided. Not like _hey, you wanna go to prom with me, Ames?_ , but like _ask her,_ ask her. Like, the real deal. Like a _date_. With his _soulmate_.

But things rarely ever go as planned. 

And a few days before he was going to ask her, she hit him with some news of her own. 

“We’re, uhm…” She trails off, her eyebrows knit together like he’s never seen them before—which is alarming in its own right, because he’s seen Amy at every level of the Santiago Panic Scale. “We’re not soulmates.” 

“What?” 

“We’re not soulmates, Jake.” 

“What do you—” He shakes his head at her. “What do you mean we’re not soulmates?” 

Somewhere along the way, his unequivocal truths had evolved to: Die Hard is the best movie ever made, pizza is a necessary food group, and Amy Santiago is my soulmate. 

Turns out unequivocal, a word that Amy taught him, wasn’t as concrete as he thought it was. 

In the back of a drawer in her father’s office, an envelope rested untouched for thirteen years. Her parents had left it there, sure that at some point, their only daughter would be curious about who her soulmate was. But Amy was seventeen, and she’d never once asked about her soulmate. 

Finally, her mother had asked her. _Aren’t you wondering who it is?_

_No,_ Amy had replied, not looking up from her math textbook. _I already know._

But it turns out that she didn’t. 

Because that letter didn’t have Jake’s name on it. The letter contained the name _Teddy Wells_ , a name which neither of them had ever heard before. 

After Jake and Amy quietly sat with their news, Jake finally worked up the courage to head home and bring it up with his mother. He was sure that his envelope would definitely have Amy’s name in it. Because what was this feeling he had with her if she wasn’t his soulmate?

But it didn’t. 

_Sophia Perez._

Amy Santiago isn’t his soulmate. And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

An entire future that Jake had been silently picturing is torn from his grasp. He hadn’t even known he’d been wanting a future like that with Amy until it was so violently ripped away from him. It’s like everything he ever knew to be true about the world is a lie. 

He knows what this means. 

He can’t ask her to prom. He can’t hold her hand. He can’t kiss her, even though he thinks about it sometimes. 

They’re almost eighteen. 

And infractions like those… 

They don’t come without consequences. 

He doesn’t know what gets into his head that day. 

It’s a few years later. They’re in college. 

Jake’s original unequivocal truths hold steady. Amy is still part of his life in a major way, though things are much more confusing and muddled than he’d ever anticipated they’d be. 

He still feels the spark each time that they touch, though they’ve tried to significantly limit their touches these days. 

You’re only supposed to feel the spark with your soulmate, and he still doesn’t understand. How can he feel this with her, yet she isn’t his soulmate?

Neither of them have met their _real_ soulmates yet. 

Perhaps what he feels with Amy isn’t the spark. 

But it’s _something._

It’s something, and he craves it. He especially needs it on his hard days, craves her in a way that’s rooted so deeply in his bones, and he doesn’t even understand what he wants. Her presence, her friendship, _her._

He has this indescribable desire to be with her. It’s like now more than ever, Amy quiets the constant storm in his mind. She knows every part of his soul, every little detail about him, and he just _needs her._

He isn’t thinking when he does it. 

He’s just hurting, and he can’t even describe the hurt. This longing, a longing he doesn’t understand for a person he feels so much love for. Longing for a future he can’t have, for some sense of normalcy amongst the chaos each year since seventeen has brought him, longing for her, always for her. She isn’t his soulmate—she _isn’t_ , no matter what he feels. 

It hurts and it’s numb all at once. 

He wants to feel something. And she's sitting on the edge of his bed, and just the way she's looking at him—she _knows him_. She knows him, and she hasn't left after all this time, after every opportunity she'd had and every reason he'd likely given her over the years... Despite the two of them being more different than any other people he knows, they've not only remained close, but they've gotten _closer_.

This is stupid. It’s stupid, and it’s reckless, and it’s everything that Jake is. Amy isn’t stupid. She isn’t reckless. She would _never—_

But she kisses him back. 

And the spark—it feels completely different with his lips pressed to hers. It’s something he never knew he was missing. It’s exhilarating, and it’s scary, and something that he never wants to stop experiencing. 

But she’s right. She pulls back, her eyes wide with fear and something else he can’t identify. 

“We’re not soulmates.” 

“I know,” he whispers back. He’s frantic. He knows what he just did, knows how serious it is. “But you feel it, too, don’t you?” 

They’ve never talked about it before. Her eyes widen, and god, he knows he can’t, but he loves her. 

“Ames, tell me you feel it, too. I’m not crazy, am I?” 

And then, just, his entire world stops. 

She kisses him again. 

And it doesn’t matter that he has an envelope in his sock drawer with someone else’s name in it. It doesn’t matter that the entire world and every bit of logic in it is against him. It doesn’t matter that he could be killed for holding her like this. 

Amy Santiago is his soulmate. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life, and he doesn’t care what anybody but her has to say about it. 

The spark tingles across his bare skin as her hands wander, and he will take any consequence that faces him if he gets to kiss her like this.

But all of it—the spark, the kisses, the sex—it pales in comparison to a fact that he’d come to know long before he’d understood the spark, long before he’d thought about kissing these lips, long before he had even a modicum of a clue what sex was. 

Amy Santiago is the best person he knows. 

Teddy Wells, whoever he is, is a lucky man. 

He has everything that Jake Peralta wants so badly to have. 

Because even if this happens again—which it won’t—even if he could play pretend and share a bed with her for the next five years… 

It’s going to end. 

She will never be his, though he’s always belonged to her. 

Being with her in this capacity is _easily_ one of the best things that has ever happened to him. 

But it’s nothing compared to getting to be _with her._

He will never get to hold her hand as they walk down the street together. He will never get to kiss her on the cheek to fight the adorable pout off of her lips when they’re having a silly argument in the park. He will never get to buy her a sparkly, little ring, or dance with her in front of all their friends, or roll over in the middle of the night to hide the same eyes with nightmares dancing behind them against her shoulder. 

This _is_ the nightmare. 

Their parents said they were imagining the spark, that they’d understand when they met their _real_ soulmates, but they’re wrong. 

It’s Amy. 

It’s always been Amy. 

And even if there’s something better awaiting him with his “real” soulmate… 

He only wants Amy. 

The words bounce around his head as he holds her in his arms: _We made a mistake._

But it wasn’t a mistake. He won’t call it that. He wouldn’t take it back for anything in the world. 

“So…” His voice sounds hollow, and foreign, and hurt. “We broke a rule.” 

It’s like they’re on the same wavelength. He’s tracing his fingers up her spine, and it’s so strange to feel this warm and this broken at the same time. She takes a deep breath, and all at once, she falls apart. 

He’s trying to comfort her. He’s holding her, kissing her forehead, soothing away each tear as it falls. 

But what can he say? _It’s okay?_

It isn’t. 

They both know it isn’t. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried, but he’s holding Amy Santiago against his chest, and he can’t stop his own tears from flowing. 

It’s so fucked up. His parents were soulmates, and his dad just _left_. 

Jake is holding his soulmate in his arms, and he would do anything to be able to stay with her, but he _can’t._

Amy pulls away, tears still shining in her eyes. He doesn’t want to let her go, but he knows she’s right. They shouldn’t be doing this—they’ve already risked far too much. 

Still, the arm around her waist pulls her closer to him, a silent plea to just _stay with him._

Her eyebrows pull together, and then she’s kissing him again. 

It’s soft, and it’s tender, and they’re all tangled up together in his sheets, and _god_ , he loves her. Her fingers card through the curls at the edge of his forehead, and he rolls them until he’s partially on top of her again, gently holding her face as he kisses her. 

He leans his forehead against hers a few moments later, breathless. They breathe each other in, holding one another close as their breathing slows. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, finally breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t.” 

He blinks at her, caught off guard by the seriousness in her voice. 

“Don’t apologize to me for kissing me.” 

He brushes the back of his knuckles across her cheekbone. “Ames.” 

“Don’t, Jake.” She shakes her head, then nestles her nose closer to his. He can feel the tension between her eyebrows. “The only thing I’m upset about is that we can’t—” 

Her voice breaks with emotion, and it breaks the last little piece of his heart. He presses his lips to hers gently. 

And he knows they can’t. He isn’t even really suggesting it. He’s just talking, saying _something,_ trying to get a glimpse of her breathtaking smile, to help her push off the same feeling that’s weighing heavy on his own heart. 

“Who says we can’t?” 

He whispers it, and he knows she can hear the smile in his voice. It’s forced, but it’s there nonetheless. 

“We can do anything we want as long as we’re sneaky.” 

She laughs softly. It’s exactly what he expects. He’s waiting for the soft _Jake…_ He’s waiting for her to shake her head, to say they can’t, to say all of the true things that he doesn’t want to hear. 

Instead, she kisses him. 

She kisses him, and seconds later, she’s deepening it. Her fingers are tugging through his hair more decisively, and she’s rolling them over so that she’s straddling his lap, and _god_ , he’s not complaining, but what’s going on? 

He hums against her lips, smiling against her as she leans her forehead on his. This isn’t enough for him, but he feels happy in this moment. 

“If we do this…” She begins softly. 

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “If we do what?” 

Both of her hands come up to frame his face. Her thumb rubs across his cheek, and her eyes are so soft and serious on his, and he’s never felt more loved by another person in his entire life. She laughs breathlessly, as if it were obvious. 

“Date me.” 

His eyebrows pull together. He laughs this soft, disbelieving laugh. “Date you?” 

She shrugs. “You said it yourself, Jake. We can do anything we want as long as we’re sneaky.” 

He shakes his head slowly, shifting to sit up a little more. She shifts with him, and he curls her into his side, angling himself so that he can see her face. 

“Ames, we can’t…” He trails off for a moment, his eyes flickering across her face. “Do you know how many rules that breaks?” 

Her eye contact doesn’t waver. “Some rules are worth breaking, Jake.” 

He almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. Amy Santiago—the same Amy Santiago that once made him feel so guilty about cheating on a math test that he _turned himself in—_ is talking about breaking _the_ rule. 

And not just, like, once. 

And there’s not an ounce of insincerity on her face. 

“Date you?” He repeats unsurely. 

“I mean…” She looks away, shrugging. “If you want to.” 

He tips her face back up toward his, scrunching his eyebrows at her. He kisses her deep and slow, this breathy little hum slipping out of her lips as he pulls away. He strokes his fingers along her jaw. 

“You know that’s not the problem,” he whispers. He feels her smile. “Just… are you sure? It’s not… I mean, it’s not safe, Amy.” 

Her eyebrows tug together unsurely for a moment. He can practically see the thoughts churning through her head, and it’s with a bit of disbelief that he watches the little wrinkle between her eyebrows smooth and relax. 

“I, uh…” She shrugs, shaking her head like she thinks what she’s saying is silly. “I’m sure about you.” 

His lips stretch into a smile so big that it actually hurts. “You want to be my girlfriend?” 

“Are you asking?” She grins back at him. 

He stares at her for a moment, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I am.” 

She tries to bite the smile away from her lips. “I mean… I _guess.”_

He laughs, shaking his head at her. He isn’t sure how this is going to work, but… He’s sure about her, too. 

“But there have to be rules,” she begins. 

He laughs again, but before she can continue, he’s dipping his head in to kiss her. 

Rules for _breaking_ the rules. 

She’s definitely his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels so messy to me i hope it doesn't come out that way to everyone else lmaOOOOOO
> 
> also wbk this isn't beta'd i'm sleepy don't make fun of me if i'm dumb ¨̮ 
> 
> also ily all and appreciate your comments and kudos u fill up my lil heart ¨̮ ¨̮ ¨̮ ¨̮ ¨̮ 
> 
> okay goodnight friendos


	3. death by a thousand cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look at that, illicit affairs lyrics didn't last lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coping with my globe depression by doing this to you

Three hundred and twenty seven days. 

He’d be lying if he said every moment of it was perfect. But it’s the closest to perfect he’s ever been. 

And it’s the closest, he’s sure, that he’ll ever be again. 

Every single moment with Amy Santiago is perfect in its own way. It’s just that his relationship with Amy, it’s laced with so much _uncertainty_.

Or… certainty, rather. 

He knows this is going to end. There are two possible endings, and they’re two sides of the same spectacularly awful coin. Either they break this off and get with their _actual_ soulmates, or they get caught and face the legal repercussions of their actions. He doesn’t like either option. But they’re there, whether he wants to acknowledge them or not. 

Some days it’s easy to pretend they’re a normal couple. 

Most days, the endings constantly hovering over them are in his peripheral vision, weaved into everything they do, every choice they make, everything they share. 

Sneaking around was really fun for the first few weeks. It was kind of hot. She’d make sure there was nobody in his hallway and she’d come over—always at different times—locking the door behind her as she slipped through it.

He’d be waiting for her, and they usually fell right into what quickly became their routine. They’d talk a little, they’d kiss a little, sometimes they’d do more. They’d hangout—oftentimes in bed—then they’d order takeout, and the end of the night was always up in the air. Sometimes they’d just get back in bed—snuggling and talking and just absorbing one another, sometimes Jake would bother Amy while she did her homework, sometimes she’d fuck him on the living room floor forty minutes into whatever movie they’d chosen. 

And he loved their routine. She was his best friend, and things were perfectly normal between them outside the walls of his apartment, but his apartment was like a little safe haven—all his hopes and dreams resting comfortably there like they had any chance at ever being real. 

But there were things he hated, too. 

Amy never slept over. She couldn’t. They both agreed it was way too risky to sleep over. What if someone saw her leaving the next morning? What if someone saw them and tipped off officials? What would they do if officials burst through his front door at 3am? 

But even though he knew she couldn’t, he wanted her to. He had to watch her leave every night, or drag himself out of her apartment and begrudgingly make the stupid trip home when all he wanted was to have her in his arms. They fell asleep on the phone sometimes, but that didn’t even come close to actually being with her. 

There are so many things he can’t have, can’t do, can’t be, and it just isn’t fair. He wants to slide his hand into her back pocket while they’re walking to class just so she can smack his hand away and lace their fingers together, but he can’t. He wants to kiss her when she does something cute while they’re grabbing coffee. He wants to look like he’s actually her boyfriend. 

But by far, the thing he wants most, is to take her out on a date. A _real_ date. He wants to break up their routine. It’s far from monotonous—and honestly, he’d even take monotony with Amy over just about anything else—but she deserves so much _more_. 

She deserves fancy restaurants, and dressing up in clothes he has to pay for with a credit card, and expensive bottles of wine that they’d drink way too fast. They’d stumble home together, laughing and kissing, and he’d already have a plan of where their next date would be. 

He’s got a list of date spots he’d like to take her to. 

He’ll never get to take her to any of them. 

She’s so smart and kind and beautiful, and she doesn’t deserve to be stuck between these four walls with him when there’s so much more in the world that they could be experiencing. He loves her so much, but he hates what this world forces them to be. In such a short time, he and Amy have cultivated a relationship that he’s really proud of. But no matter how proud he is, their relationship is minimized to nothing more than a secret that they should be ashamed of. 

And he’s just so _sad_. 

Every moment with her, no matter how happy, is laced with sadness. It’s weighed down by what can’t be, what is, and what, inevitably, is coming. 

Even so, he loves her. He loves her, and he wouldn’t trade a single moment with her for anything else in the world. 

And, ya’know… Even though he can’t take her out on real dates, it’s not so bad. Sure, he pictured fancy restaurants, but there are other ways to take her on dates. 

The time, for example, that he manages to smuggle her fanciest dress out of her closet while she’s in the shower. He’d been plotting for two weeks, trying to figure out how to get everything to fall exactly into place. He even bought out an entire section of those tiny little candles from the dollar store—like forty six of them. 

He spends the entire day on facetime with his mother, learning his Nana’s lasagna recipe for _no reason, Mom, really_. He even goes as far as to hang up a sheet to block Amy’s view from the rest of his apartment, leading her way straight to his bedroom. She regards him with a bright, confused smile when she sees him. He kisses her, placing himself conveniently in the only little gap his sheet doesn’t cover so that her curious eyes can’t see what he’s hiding, then leads her down the hallway. 

He’d mentioned to Gina that he was going to finally take a bubble bath in his tub, not so accidentally mentioning the bubble solution he’d seen at the drugstore. The two hour lecture on _not ruining his stupid, nice skin with a cheap bubble bath_ left him going home with a bottle of some really nice smelling soap, some fizzy, shimmery things, and a clay mask. He has them set up in a little basket next to the tub for Amy. There are candles lit all around the room, and a fluffy, pink robe he’d gotten for her hung on the back of the door. 

“What is all this?” She asks through a grin. 

He shrugs, leaning in to offer her one soft, sweet kiss. 

“Just wanted to do something different.” He can’t resist the urge to kiss her just once more, a little slower this time. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he murmurs to her. “There’s something for you to wear in the bedroom when you’re done.” 

Then he’s back in the kitchen, smiling to himself as he finishes up the lasagna. There are a few roses from the bodega resting in a makeshift vase—an old tequila bottle. He got some fancy chocolate cake from one of the good bakeries, he has so many candles lit that he’s a little concerned that he might set the fire alarms off, and he’d timed it all perfectly so that he has time to run into his bedroom and get his suit on before Amy’s finished in the bathroom. 

He’s waiting for her at the table, the sheet long gone, by the time he sees her again. 

“Oh my god, you look…” He trails off, struggling to find words that seem like enough. “Wow.” 

Her red lipstick matches her red dress, and no, this isn’t the same as a fancy restaurant, but she has the biggest smile on her face, and he idly thinks that this might be even better than a restaurant.

“Jake, this is incredible,” she murmurs, her eyes flickering around the dimly lit room. 

He jumps up, rushing over to pull her chair out for her. He sits across from her, smiling wide as he flickers through playlists, quickly locating the one with the soft, fancy music he’d chosen for this specific occasion. She laughs when he serves her the first course. 

“It’s _salad_ , Ames. I mean, yeah, it’s from a bag, but there’s an actual salad in my apartment right now.” 

“Wow, you must really love me.” She tries to bite away her smile, but she just can’t fight it off.

He grins right back at her, way more stupidly. “Yeah, I must.” 

Her eyebrows furrow when she takes her first bite of lasagna. “You made this?” 

“Yes!” He smiles proudly, then tilts his head. “Unless it’s bad. If it’s bad, then I got it from Charles.” 

“No, it’s good.” She shakes her head. “Really good.” 

He shrugs, a smug little smirk on his lips. “Guess I’m full of surprises.” 

Later, when he unzips her dress to find a lacy little matching set, she murmurs a soft _guess you’re not the only one who’s full of surprises, huh?_

He marvels for a moment at the fact that this woman that he knows inside and out can surprise him in different little ways each day. Then her hands are guiding his, and every thought in his head is lost to her—the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she sounds.

They’ve had quite a few little dates like that, planned by either, or both of them. Once she set up a full Die Hard marathon for him, complete with every movie (even the bad one!) and every sour candy he’s ever heard of. They played stupid games where they’d close their eyes and feed each other a piece of candy and try to guess which one it was. She’d roll her eyes at him when he’d break a kiss to murmur McClane’s lines at her seductively, and it was basically the most perfect day he’s ever experienced. She even quoted a few lines from the first one to him, and he’s certain that he’s never felt anything like the love he feels for her. 

And yeah, maybe they’re not _real_ dates, but they’re real for them. Is it ideal? No. But is it worth it to be with someone that he loves so entirely? Absolutely. 

In the back of his mind, he knows. 

He knows that this can’t last. 

He tries not to think about it too much. They’re taking this one day at a time. And besides, they’re a few months in, and nothing bad has happened. 

She’s his soulmate. 

He knows it’s more complicated than he’s making it out to be, but why not allow himself to spend time with her like this? They’re not wrong. The system is. And they shouldn’t have to suffer without each other just because somebody else made a mistake. 

All he can do is keep moving forward. He can hope for the best, and give her his best, and feel at his best with her. 

The rest is out of his hands. 

—

“So, uh…” Jake trails off quietly. Amy looks at him expectantly, but god, he doesn’t want to tell her. He sighs. “I think _maybe_ you were right.” 

They’ve been snuggled up together on the couch for the past ten minutes. The past few days, they’d both been super busy, so they hadn’t even _seen_ each other. Going three consecutive days without seeing each other has been unheard of for them—and not just since they started dating. Since they were kids. 

He likes to think that in normal circumstances, they’d handle separation a bit more fluidly. The problem is that it’s always at the back of his mind. 

The possibility. 

That something happened, that something came out, that she somehow got caught. 

When they go a handful of days without talking much, his mind wanders until he spirals, and then the second he sees her, he just wants her close. He wants to feel the spark, wants to feel her breath on his neck, wants to feel her love. 

This separation was particularly difficult, because in the midst of it all, he found out he was, in fact, wrong. He _wasn’t_ being careful enough. Amy had been warning him, pointing out when he’d get a little too touchy (lightly grabbing her arm—never her hand—to keep her close when they’re in a crowded place) or making her laugh too much (with jokes that aren’t appropriate, but the likes of which he’d made her laugh and roll her eyes with before they were sneaking around, too). 

It was a tricky place to be, because she _liked it_ , so that encouraged him, but later, she’d be ready with a healthy dose of reality. _We can’t do things like that, Jake. We’re going to get caught._ He’d be ready with his own _these are the same things we’ve always done_ reply, to which she’d point out that while that’s true, they didn’t used to have anything to hide—and now they do. 

Still, Jake thought she was a little too careful sometimes. 

Or, at least, he _had_ thought that. 

He takes a deep breath, his nerves quelling slightly when Amy’s fingers find his. She has this quiet encouragement about her that almost instantly calms him, but right now he feels like a bomb on the verge of detonation. 

“I think Gina might know.” 

Amy tenses slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. He quickly backpedals, trying to say something to make that horrifying statement better. 

“I mean—I don’t think she _knows_ , she seemed to buy my lie, but she definitely _suspects_. And… it’s a matter of time, right?” 

Not making things better.

“No—I didn’t mean—I mean—Charles convinced her there’s something going on between us, which—” He pauses abruptly. “I just realized that means Charles thinks he knows, too.” 

Fuck. 

Amy squeezes her eyes shut, and he’s about to spiral into another terrible effort at fixing this when she speaks. 

“Rosa knows.” 

Jake opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates. “What?” 

She sighs quietly. “She confronted me about it. Said that Charles thinks we’re hiding something. And you know I can’t lie to her—”

“So you told her?” 

“No, I just… said things? I talked around it, and I said things like _that’s ridiculous_ and _if we were going to date, why wouldn’t we have done it in high school when the stakes weren’t so high_ , but I never actually denied it. And she didn’t say anything, but I think she saw right through me.” 

He rubs his hand along her bicep comfortingly. “She probably doesn’t _actually_ know. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” 

“They’re our best friends,” he whispers. “What’s the worst that could happen if they _did_ find out?” 

They both know that their friends won’t turn them in, but they both look away at the mention of _the worst that can happen._ The worst that can happen hangs around them, the air thick with the taunts of exactly what would go down if this came out. 

But still, he thinks, it would be nice to be able to share this with someone else. It would be nice to have someone else’s support when it feels like everyone is so inherently against them. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against her skin. 

This is important, and they’re going to have to talk about it all. They’ll have to decide what to do. 

But he hasn’t seen her in three days. He hasn’t seen her in three days, and he hasn’t had a chance to really take her in yet, and before they take on all this heavy stuff, he needs to just exist in the safety of his apartment with her. 

“I love you, too,” she replies.

He rests his forehead against hers, nestling closer when her eyes close. His lips brush against hers, and she’s quick to respond in kind. He wouldn’t really say he deepens it, but neither of them are holding anything back. 

She breaks the kiss slowly. 

“They’re onto us. Even if they don’t actually know yet.” 

“Mhm,” he hums softly, his lips pressing to hers. She gives in to him for a moment, a soft breath falling against his lips as she pulls back a little. 

“Stop kissing me, Jake. This is serious.” 

“It’d be much easier to stop kissing you if you stopped kissing me back.” 

She rolls her eyes, and he’s already leaning in again when she presses her finger to his lips. 

“Rosa knows, Jake. I know she knows.” 

“She doesn’t know.” 

Amy's eyes narrow. “She _knows.”_

“How does she—because I mimicked you that one time when we were all getting lunch?” He scoffs quietly. “I teased you before we were dating.” 

“I don’t know how she figured it out, all I know is that she did.” 

“Alright…” Jake shrugs, then promptly leans back in to kiss her. She seems surprised, but she accepts him without more than a muffled hum. 

After a moment, she pushes him away again, her eyes giving away just how lost in him she was. 

“Jake.” 

“Ames, what do you want me to say? If she knows, then she knows. Nothing I can do to change it now. And it’s not like she’s going to tell on us, right?” 

“No, I mean, of course not.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “But if she knows, other people can probably figure it out, too, right?” 

He doesn’t want to have this conversation—doesn’t like where it’s going. 

“I think it’s a bit of a leap to say that because one of our best friends figured out that we’re hiding something that everyone else will figure it out, too.” 

She clearly isn’t satisfied with this answer. He sighs quietly, his eyes serious on hers.

“I promise, Amy Santiago, that I will be more careful for you. I will stand at least six feet away from you in public, I will only speak to you like I’m drafting a professional email, and I’ll even try my best to stop thinking about kissing you when we’re in front of other people.” He leans his head on a couch cushion, playfully twirling a few strands of her hair around his finger, then tugging lightly. “But I’ve barely seen you the past three days, and I miss you, Ames.” 

She rolls her eyes again, but she settles in closer to his chest. “I missed you, too.” 

“I promise to brainstorm two full pages of ways we can be more discreet going forward.” 

Her eyes flicker from his eyes, down to his lips, and back. “Two pages?” 

“Single spaced.” 

His soft laughter is muffled by her lips when she surges forward, kissing him the way he’s practically been begging her to since she stepped into his apartment. They’re definitely going to have to figure out what to do about their friends, but they aren’t going to come up with any feasible solutions in the next hour, anyway. They can afford to relax together for a little while and brainstorm solutions later over takeout, he thinks. 

A few minutes later, she’s on top of him, pulling his shirt over his head. He tugs her cardigan off of her shoulders, his hand sliding underneath her tank top and grinning at her little responding hum while she shifts to pull her cardigan off all the way. Things are still mild enough that he can’t tell if it’s going to end with her snuggling up and turning on a movie or if things are going to progress further, but his body is gearing up for something more, and she’s definitely taking notice. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to find out where things are going. 

Because in the middle of their makeout session, a fist pounds against his front door, causing Amy to jump, and both of them to freeze. He doesn’t even have time to think about how he’s lucky that Amy didn’t accidentally bite his tongue off when she was startled, because before either of them can find it in themselves to move, he hears a muffled, familiar voice. 

“Open up, Pineapples!” There’s a brief pause, and Amy’s eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them. “I saw your car, idiot. I know you’re in there.” 

It takes him a few minutes to hide Amy, but as soon as he does, he rushes to the door. 

“Hey. Sorry, I was napping. What are you guys doing here?” 

Gina pushes in without a word, Rosa and Charles following close behind her. As soon as the door shuts, Gina’s talking again. 

“Okay, where is she?” 

“Where is who?” 

“Don’t play with me, Jake. When I taught you how to lie better, it wasn’t so you could lie to _me.”_

His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Her car’s outside.” Rosa informs him. 

Fuck. 

Jake blinks at her. “I would be much more help if I knew who you were talking about.” 

“And her cardigan’s on the couch,” Charles helpfully adds. 

_Fuck._

“Why are you guys being so weird?” Jake tries. “Gina just asked me the other day if there was something going on with me and Amy. There’s _not_ , by the way.” 

Gina holds up the cardigan, eyeing Jake seriously. 

“We’re friends! I’m sure I have some of your things around here somewhere, too.” 

“I don’t see any of my things sitting on the couch,” Charles murmurs. Jake rolls his eyes at the too-high pitch of his insinuating voice. 

Rosa narrows her eyes at him, then promptly walks across the apartment and into his bedroom. Jake follows, arms crossed tight across his chest, eyes narrowed as she looks underneath his bed.

“Are you looking for her?” 

“Her car is outside,” Rosa repeats. She opens his closet, making a face when a stack of clothes tumbles out of it. 

“Okay, now you’re just making a mess.”

“It doesn’t look like she’s here, Rosa,” Charles says, sounding a little disappointed.

“I told you he couldn’t lie to me,” Gina replies from behind him. 

Rosa makes her way into the bathroom, then peeks around the kitchen before finally crossing her own arms. 

“You satisfied?” Jake asks. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“You really think Amy Santiago, the girl who was granted the title of _Most Appropriate_ in high school, is hiding in my apartment? I feel like you owe her an apology even more than you owe me one.” 

Rosa’s eyes narrow briefly, and he realizes his mistake before her eyes even flicker over to the window. 

Amy _Most Appropriate_ Santiago isn’t hiding in his apartment. 

But she _is_ hiding on the fire escape. 

Rosa takes three decisive steps toward the window, and Jake can’t help it. He sprints over, placing himself between her and the window. 

“Don’t.” 

“Let me open the window, Jake.” 

“I can’t. It’s way too cold outside. My heating bill will be insane. You already know I’m broke.” He’s stalling, and not a single person in the room is falling for it. 

“Jake, move.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not going to ask you again.” 

Jake stares at her for a moment. It’s clear that she is not going to leave until she looks on the fire escape. He could continue attempting to stall them, but Rosa _might_ actually hurt him, and even more importantly it _is_ cold outside, and Amy’s on the fire escape in nothing but a tank top. 

He sighs defeatedly, then steps to the side. He’s holding his breath as Rosa opens the window. 

“What the hell?” Rosa quietly mutters. 

“I _told you!”_ Gina practically shouts. 

Rosa climbs out the window, quickly followed by Gina, then Jake, then Charles. 

And once they’re out there, he completely understands. 

Amy is nowhere to be seen. He tries not to look shocked, but he knows she didn’t jump off the fire escape, and the ladder hasn’t been extended, so he doesn’t have the slightest clue where she could be. 

“Wow,” Rosa says flatly. “I’m sorry. I thought she was here.” 

“Yeah,” Jake replies, trying not to sound either astonished _or_ concerned. “And now my heating bill will be through the roof.” 

He thinks he’s in the clear. He’s trying to usher his friends back into his apartment. He’s sure Amy’s around here somewhere, and he doesn’t want to wait around for Rosa to figure out where that somewhere might be. 

But right before he gets Rosa to climb back through the window, they hear a noise above them. It’s a quick sound, and it abruptly stops, but he’d recognize it anywhere.

“What was that?” Rosa asks.

Charles grins, flashing his phone screen at them to show the call that he’s making. “Amy’s ringtone.” 

Rosa glares at Jake, then leads the way up the fire escape. Jake quietly throws his arms up in the air at Charles, who mouths _I knew it!_ Everyone follows Rosa’s lead, Jake begrudgingly following behind them. And sure enough, three floors up, Amy is standing on someone’s window ledge, body pressed flat against the window so that she was out of sight from below. 

“Oh! Hey, guys!” Amy chirps awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” 

“I can’t believe you two,” Rosa mutters. She turns, abruptly punching Jake in the arm _hard_. 

“Ow!”

“I _apologized_ to you.” Then she punches him again. 

_“Ow!”_

“And you’re an idiot. How could you do this?”

Rosa pulls her arm back to punch him in the arm a third time, but Amy finally finds it in her to move, and she hops off the ledge and grabs Rosa’s arm. 

“Stop, Rosa—”

Rosa turns toward Amy, just as mad. “He’s had a lot of bad ideas, but this is by far the dumbest. How did he get you to—”

“It was my idea.” 

Rosa freezes, the anger in her face dissipating into confusion. “What?” 

Amy looks at Jake, shrugging. “It was my idea.” 

Charles barely contains his excited yelp at that. Jake glares over at him. 

“Can we please go inside to discuss this?” Jake asks. Rosa rolls her eyes, but nods her head toward the stairs. 

They awkwardly shuffle single file down to his apartment. Jake contemplates shutting the window after he and Amy make it in, but it doesn’t matter either way. There’s no escaping this now, and locking them out will only result in another bruise from Rosa or, alternatively, Rosa smashing his window to get inside and _then_ further bruising him. 

Nobody speaks once they make it inside. Amy makes her way to the couch, pulling her cardigan on and sitting down. Jake sits next to her, his hand shifting to rub against her arm. 

“Are you okay?” 

Amy shrugs, her eyes aimed down at the floor. Jake hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, but she won’t look up at him. He slides his hand down her arm, lacing his fingers with hers. It feels weirdly wrong with the three sets of eyes staring at them. 

“Oh my _god!”_ Charles practically shouts. 

“Shut up, you moron.” Gina glares at Charles. “Do you think we really need to attract any attention to this room right now?” 

“I’m just so _excited!”_ For a second, Jake thinks Charles might actually pass out. “I told you! I told all of you! Way back in middle school, I said Jake and Amy were soulma—”

“They’re not soulmates,” Rosa interrupts, her intense eyes glued to Amy. 

The room falls silent again. 

“What are you guys even doing? What exactly is the plan here?” 

Rosa is Amy’s longest friend, and he knew that she’d be pissed about this. He can count on her to always have Amy’s back, and… she’s not wrong to be pissed at him. 

“There, uhm…” Amy begins quietly. She looks up at Jake, and her eyes mirror his—full of emotion that he doesn’t want to face. “There isn’t a plan.” 

After a few moments of silence, Gina sits on the edge of the chair. “How long?” 

“Six months,” Jake answers. 

“You’ve been lying to me for six months?!” She scoffs. “No hard feelings, but I hate you.” 

“I don’t understand,” Rosa says before anybody can acknowledge Gina. 

Jake sighs, his hand slipping away from Amy’s. He drags his fingers through his hair, then shifts to sink back into the couch. He feels like he’s sitting in the principal’s office for some dumb prank he pulled in high school. This is way more serious, and this is the _best_ case scenario of them getting caught. He doesn’t look up when he begins talking. 

“I felt the spark with Amy the day I met her.” 

Once again, the room is silent. Amy pulls her feet up onto the couch, shifting a little closer to him. Her hand finds his again, and that same spark tingles through his fingertips. He looks up and offers her a small, sad smile. 

They know what this means. 

Getting caught means it’s over. 

“I need to sit down,” Charles practically whispers. 

“You feel the spark?” Gina asks. 

Jake laughs softly. “There were no explosions in the Ice Age, Jake.” 

Amy laughs at him mimicking her seven-year-old know-it-all tone, a little emotion breaking through. He smiles up at her, and she leans into him, both of them tipping their foreheads together and closing their eyes for a moment. If this is going to be the end, he’s going to hold her close whether his friends are all staring at him or not, because even if her name isn’t in his envelope, he’s in love with her. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Jake begins softly, not moving from where he’s leaning against her. “I know we’re being stupid. And Amy’s right—there’s no plan. But, uhm…” He trails off, a breathy laugh escaping him. “I felt the spark when I was seven, and I felt it when we were dancing at my bar mitzvah at thirteen. I felt it when you held my hand under the table at that soulmate seminar, I felt it the first time I kissed you, and I feel it,” he pauses, nuzzling his nose closer to hers, “right now.” 

“So… You feel the spark, but you’re not soulmates?” Rosa asks. 

“I’m gonna pass out,” Charles mutters, lowering himself from the chair he’s sitting on to the floor. 

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re only supposed to feel the spark with your soulmate.” Gina starts talking before Charles even finishes. 

“I know,” Amy replies. She shakes her head, pulling just far enough away from Jake that she can look into his eyes. “That’s why we’re doing this. Because some things…” She presses her palm lightly to his cheek, smiling when he closes his eyes and leans into her. “Are worth breaking rules for.” 

“That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Shut up, Charles,” Gina says again. “So what are you guys going to do? File an appeal?” 

Jake laughs bitterly, turning to look at their friends. “You know what happens to people who file appeals.” 

“But if you feel it—” 

“Every single case where an appeal has been filed has ended the same way that us getting caught would end.” Amy interrupts. He hates the hopelessness he hears in her voice. “At least sneaking around, we had a chance at not getting caught.” 

“Every single appeal?” Rosa asks. 

“Two-hundred and sixty one in the past three decades.” Amy murmurs, looking down. “Every single one has ended in death. I researched. I didn’t _want_ to break the rules. We didn’t have a choice.” 

There are another few minutes of heavy silence. Amy takes a deep breath. 

“But now that we’ve been caught by you guys…” She trails off. Jake squeezes her hand lightly. She doesn’t look up at him. Her eyebrows scrunch together, her voice quieting. “It’s too dangerous.” 

Jake’s fairly certain that even if a soulmate official walked into the room right now, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of Amy. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Ames.” 

She nods, letting herself be pulled into his arms. He holds her close, his fingers stroking through her hair. 

“It’s _not_ okay,” Charles mutters, sounding closer to tears than either Jake or Amy. He jumps up, his hand rushing to cover his mouth as he rushes toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna be sick.” 

“So you guys are just gonna… what?” Gina flips her palms up toward the ceiling. “Break up? Even though you feel it?” She shakes her head. “What was all this for if you’re just gonna call it quits now?” 

Jake can feel her warm tears against his neck. He clenches his jaw, trying to force some of his emotion away. Amy sniffles, shrugging her shoulders without moving out of his embrace. He shushes her softly. 

“No,” Rosa says. She says it with such finality that they both look up at her. “You’re not doing that.” 

Amy laughs. “What else are we supposed to do, Rosa?” She shakes her head. “You caught us in less than a year. How long before somebody who’s willing to turn us in finds out?” 

“Yeah, that’s because you dummies were doing this all by yourselves.” 

Jake raises an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?” 

“I _mean,”_ she rolls her eyes, “you two aren’t exactly the greatest at lying and keeping secrets.” 

Jake narrows his eyes. “The only reason I’m not going to fight you on that is because we’re talking about a secret we couldn’t keep right now, but—” 

“If we help you,” Rosa interrupts, “maybe you’d have a chance.” 

Amy’s eyebrows scrunch together. “You would do that for us?” 

Gina shrugs, looking down at her phone. “I can see if I can fit you into my schedule.” 

“Yeah, I don’t want to be stuck around you two when you’re all depressed and annoying.” Rosa crosses her arms, voice lowering. “Plus, it’s kind of sweet that you’re, like, forbidden lovers, or whatever. Feels very Nancy Meyers.” 

“Oh my god,” Amy murmurs to Jake, excitedly grabbing at his arm. “Do we have Rosa’s approval?” 

“Do you two want to do this, or not?” Rosa snaps. 

“Yes—”

“Absolutely—”

They say simultaneously. 

And there’s something about going from complete hopelessness to the support that he’d been hoping would come with letting their friends in on their secret. He’s looking at Amy, and there’s a smile on her face again, despite the tears still lingering in her eyes, and he just can’t help himself. For the first time in front of an audience, Jake pulls Amy closer, their elated laughter interrupting their kiss. 

“Oh my—”

Jake and Amy both turn around when a loud _thump_ echoes behind them. Charles is lying on the floor, presumably having fainted at the shock of seeing them kissing. 

“First of all, you guys can’t be doing that. That’s gonna need some work.” Gina doesn’t even look over at Charles. 

Jake turns toward Gina and Rosa, eyebrows raised. “Well, we probably have to work on Charles, too.” 

Rosa rolls her eyes. “Yeah, looks like we’re gonna have our work cut out for us.” 

He turns back toward Amy. He presses his lips to hers gently. A little work isn’t going to scare him away from this. 

Not when it comes to her. 

—

Their friends finding out about their relationship is the best thing that has happened to them so far. 

They had been trying so hard to keep it all to themselves, but things have only gotten better for them since it’s all come out. So many of their nights had been spent inside, kept to themselves at the beginning of their relationship. Now that their friends know, they’re back to going out with them and doing things. 

And yeah, it’s not quite the same as going on a one-on-one date, but at least he can take her places _somehow_. They even came up with a system for them to try places solo every now and then, so long as the place isn’t too fancy and it isn’t too late. 

His apartment is still their little safe haven, and he still wishes he could wake up with her in his arms, but things are _good_. Things are good, and he’s happy. Like, _really_ happy. He doesn’t even ruminate on the possibility of their future going up in flames that much anymore. Sure, it still occurs to him sometimes, but it isn’t the motivating thought behind most of his actions these days. 

Things are _good._

It’s Amy’s birthday, and he can’t imagine having to stay locked up inside with her like any regular day. Their friends agreed to come out to a fancy restaurant with them. They’re all dressed up, and they seated him and Amy inside the booth, so he’s rubbing little distracting circles on her inner thigh, and yeah, that dress she’s wearing has him thinking about being locked up inside her apartment with her, but he’s so glad to have this experience with her _before_ that. 

When they get home, they don’t even bother to turn on the lights. They walk up to her door, safely standing a few inches apart, and the second the door shuts, he’s pushing her up against it. 

“God, I’ve been wanting to get you out of this all night.” 

“Oh, you have?” She laughs when he dips in to kiss her neck, his hands already sliding up her dress with intent. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

She’s acting like she wasn’t just as bad as him, but her fingers are threading his buttons out of place faster than they ever have before. He’d love to tease her about the eyes she’d been giving him all night, but he’s got better things to do with his mouth at the moment. 

He kisses down her neck, carefully biting at her dress and tugging it out of his way. He’s supporting her with one hand gripping her thigh, the other sneaking up to tug her underwear off of the leg that she’s so helpfully hiking up for him. Her quick fingers have his belt unbuckled before his tongue even has a chance at pulling that breathy gasp out of her that he loves so much. She tips her head back, moaning softly when his fingers settle into a perfect rhythm. 

“Yeah?” 

Her free arm wraps around his neck, pulling him up so that his lips can find hers. He groans into her kiss when she gets his button undone, immediately slipping her hand into his pants and starting in with those slow, torturous touches. Normally he’d slow down, too, but it’s her birthday, so just this once she gets a pass. 

“Yes,” she whispers against his lips. “Fuck, Jake—” 

She whimpers softly and _god_ , she makes the prettiest sounds. She’s barely even touching him, but he’s already so ready for her. 

Jake can say, full transparency, that he’s _never_ thought of his grandmother in a moment like this before. 

But here he is, thinking about her. 

She always used to say that certain things made her blood run cold. He had never understood it. They saw a snake once—it made her blood run cold. There was a big spider in her bathroom—it made her blood run cold. Jake walked too fast around the corner, _he_ made her blood run cold.

Every time anything scared her even the slightest bit, Nana would say her blood ran cold. He used to always picture ice spreading through her veins, like icicles slowly forming on tree branches. He understood what she’d meant, but he’d never experienced that feeling. Sure, he’d been scared. He’d been surprised and startled, and there was the odd moment of panic, but he’d never felt that his _blood ran cold._

But here he is in Amy’s apartment, her hand down his pants while his hands give her exactly what she needs, and it happens. 

There’s a shuffling sound from behind his back, and Jake feels, with certainty, his blood run cold. 

Jake and Amy jolt apart. He turns to face the noise, his back pressed flush against Amy’s chest—to cover her, to hide her, to be close to her. His hand is on the doorknob, stupidly thinking that perhaps he can push it open and offer her an out, an escape, like she’d leave him here alone. 

He knows she wouldn’t. But that’s exactly where his mind is going. He can shove the door open and tell her to run, then he can stall whoever just made that sound. 

They’re both holding their breath, Amy’s fingers wrapped tight around Jake’s forearm. The shuffle from the darkness comes again, causing Amy’s fingers to squeeze tighter. He squeezes his eyes shut, unsure what the best move is. 

Is it anything? Could it be a raccoon or something? Is it going to cause more of a scene if they bolt from the room together? If they both run, they’ll have a better chance at getting her than they do if he stays behind. What if it’s nothing and he pushes her out of the apartment like a maniac, then someone sees and gets suspicious? 

But what if it _is_ something? What if it’s some _one?_

What if this is it? 

Jake has never, in all of the years he’s been alive, been so scared. The wave of panic that washes over him settles deep in his bones, and he’s locked in place, Amy’s soft, panicked breath behind him making him grit his teeth because _he got them here._ _He_ kissed her. _He_ started this, even though he knew the consequences. Amy never would have done something like this if he hadn’t taken that first step, and he knew all along that this is where that choice would lead them. 

Every day, he chose this future for them. Every day, he looked Amy Santiago in the face and told her that he loved her, knowing that being with her was putting her at risk. She’s supposed to have a long, full life. She’s so ambitious, and smart, and strong, and beautiful. She’s got so much left to do, so much left to be that she hasn’t uncovered yet. 

And now that’s all going to be taken from her. 

Because of him. 

Only seconds have passed, but each one ticks by like they’re being swallowed by quicksand. 

Finally, from out of the darkness, comes a groggy voice. 

“Amy?”

Before either of them can really register what that means, a light flickers on. 

Across her living room, draped partially across the couch and clearly having just woken up, is Amy’s brother Benji. 

In the dim light from the lamp, Jake can see that the living room is decorated for her birthday. Benji lives a few hours away, and he came in—clearly with the intention of surprising her. 

_Goal achieved._

Neither Jake, nor Amy, have moved. 

Benji seems to be taking information in just as slowly as them, his eyebrows furrowing, then eyes quickly widening. He stares at them, at Jake’s mostly unbuttoned shirt, at the belt hanging off of his hips, his unbuttoned pants, the hair that’s clearly been given quite a bit of attention from the sister that Jake is standing in front of protectively. The quicksand seconds continue to tick by, and while Jake had thought that quicksand was terrifying as a child, he thinks he’d prefer it to whatever comes next. 

“Ja—” Benji trails off, confusion clear in his voice. His eyes flicker wildly between Jake’s face and Amy’s. “What—are you guys—what’s—” 

He pauses, like he isn’t sure how to construct a sentence. Jake feels similarly. Benji stands up, shaking his head to himself. 

“Benji…” Amy begins, shuffling behind Jake to fix the rest of her clothing, then slipping out from behind him. “It’s not what it—” 

“Not what it looks like?” Benji snaps incredulously. “Is it what it sounds like? Because it sounded like I just woke up to the sound of my sister getting fucked against a door by someone who isn’t her soulmate.” 

This statement is more sensible than any of the choices Jake has made in the past year, yet it still hurts to hear it aloud. His jaw clenches, but he’s still frozen against the door, eyebrows woven together as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

“We weren’t—no, it wasn’t—” 

“Amy. C’mon.” He shakes his head at her. “I’m not stupid. And—god—I didn’t think you were stupid, either.” 

“I didn’t know you’d be here—”

“Yeah, _surprise.”_ His eyes turn back onto Jake. “Are you two fucking crazy? Is there not a single thought in either of your heads?” 

Amy turns back to look at Jake, her eyes apologetic, but still afraid. His mouth falls open, but his reply is lost in the quicksand. Amy turns back to face her brother.

“It’s not that simple.” 

“What about this isn’t simple, Amy? They’ll _kill you.”_ He throws his hands up in front of himself in exasperation. “Is that really not simple enough for you?” She fumbles with a reply, and Benji’s eyes flicker back to Jake. “And you? You have nothing to say?” 

“I—” Jake’s voice begins without his explicit permission. “I’m—I’m sorry, I—” 

“You’re _sorry?”_ Benji scoffs. “Well that's just great. Maybe if you say you’re sorry to the officials who inevitably catch you, they’ll just let you go!” He flashes his palms at them to show just how stupid that statement was. He shakes his head for the millionth time, then walks across the room, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. “You two _obviously_ need to talk about how to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. So I’m gonna go.” 

Jake awkwardly shuffles to the side of the door as Benji approaches. 

“Good to see you, Jake. Really wish it were under better circumstances.” He opens the door, then turns back toward Amy. “I’ll be back—” He pauses abruptly, and Jake can see his jaw flexing. He pushes the door shut, then lowers his voice. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Try not to be doing anything that can get you killed when I get here.” He shakes his head one final time, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Love you.” Then, to himself. “Fucking dummy.” 

With that, he exits, leaving Jake and Amy alone in complete silence. 

Jake is frozen for a moment, he and Amy just staring at each other. He can still see the remnants of panic in her face, her eyebrows weaving together with the same sinking feeling overcoming him. His thoughts slowly start to catch up with him. He twists the lock into place without removing his gaze from Amy’s face. It takes a lot of effort for him to swallow.

“Ames…” He begins carefully. 

Amy shakes her head. “No.” 

“Amy, we have to—”

“No.” 

He shakes his head at her, slowly crossing the room. Amy shakes her head back, her refusal almost seeming to increase with each step he takes. He reaches for her, but she takes a step back, holding her hands up to keep his hands off of her. 

“No. _No._ Don’t—”

“We have to—”

“No—”

“He’s right, Amy.” Jake’s voice is stern and serious in a way that he doesn’t think he’s ever been with her before. “He’s right.”

“No.” 

“We’re being stupid.” 

“We’re not—”

“We just got caught, Ames.”

“By my brother!”

“Yeah, but what if it wasn’t your brother? What if it was someone else?”

“But it _was_ my brother.”

He lets out a soft exhale. “What about next time?” 

“There doesn’t have to be a next time.” 

“But there will be.” His eyes flicker over her face. She knows what’s coming. They both do. “There will be. Amy, it’s been less than a year, and four people already know.” 

“Benji isn’t going to say anything.” 

“I know he’s not. But if four people know in the first year, then how many people will know by the second? The third?” He shakes his head slowly. “And this is us being careful. This isn’t sustainable, Ames.”

He’s staring at her, his heart in his throat. There are tears shining in her eyes. She takes a step back, flinching and looking down at the floor when she steps on some confetti that Benji had sprinkled across the rug. There are streamers strung up behind her, a few balloons floating against the ceiling. The backdrop is a stark contrast to the woman standing in front of it, the heartbreak clear on her face. 

He takes another step toward her, but she backs away again. 

“Jake, don’t.” Her voice breaks, and with it a little piece of him crumbles. “Don’t.” 

“Please,” he whispers. “I love you so much, Ames. Please.” 

This time when he takes a step toward her, she doesn’t move. He slowly reaches for her, and the second his hands touch her shoulders, she’s collapsing into his arms. 

“Shhhh,” he shushes softly, his fingers stroking through her hair. His vision is blurry from the tears welling up in his own eyes. 

“No,” she murmurs into his chest. “No. There’s gotta be some—I _feel it_ , Jake. I feel it with you.” 

He walks her to the couch, lowering her down until she’s sitting. The confetti crinkles as she sits against it. He’s hyper-aware of everything little thing around them, because he knows. _He knows._ He kneels in front of her, his hands gentle, but firm on her face. 

“I feel it with you, too.” He leans his forehead against hers, his thumbs slowly wiping her tears away. They’re falling so quickly that no matter how attentive he is, he can’t keep up with them. “I love you.” 

“I—” She begins. Her voice breaks again. “Please, Jake. Don’t—please. 

He can feel his bottom lip trembling as he tries to control his emotions. Warm tears are streaming down his own cheeks. He can see the dark splashes on Amy’s lap, their tears mingling together against the fabric of her dress and creating this mocking little portrait of their sadness. His voice comes out as more of a broken whisper. 

“I can’t—” He takes a shaky, labored breath. “I won’t be the reason that you get killed, Ames. I never—” He can’t keep a grip on himself, choking on a sort of sob. “God, I never should’ve put you in this position.” 

“I chose to be here.” He can hear the defiance in her voice. “You didn’t do this to me, Jake. We chose this together.” 

He shakes his head, his hand leaving her just long enough to wipe a fresh round of tears away from his eyes. 

“Please,” she whispers. 

He looks at her, and he’s sure that his eyes mirror hers—red, puffy, overflowing with tears. There’s no part of him that even tries to deny her when she presses her lips to his. He holds her tight, and god, he never wants to let her go. She tries to keep kissing him, but his emotions get the better of him, and another broken breath interrupts them. 

“Stay,” she tries. “Stay the night. You don’t have to leave.” 

He can’t manage to get a word out. In all of the time they’ve been together, they’ve never spent a whole night together. There is not a single part of him that wants to leave. He squeezes her leg just above her knee, looking for some sort of outlet for the emotion running rampant inside of him. She opens her arms up to him, and he collapses against her. He crumples up in her lap, his arms wrapping tight around her waist. She holds him, her fingers brushing through his hair. He can hear the tears in her voice. 

“Don’t leave, Jake.” 

He can’t remember the last time he cried this hard. He’s not sure that he’s _ever_ cried this hard. The only thing he wants less than to leave her, is to see the outcome when they’re inevitably caught. 

She shushes him softly, though he can feel her tears falling against the back of his head. After a moment, he composes himself enough to look up at her again. 

“I can’t.” 

His voice sounds raw in a way he doesn’t really recognize. She closes her eyes, sucking in a shaky, tearful breath and nodding at him. 

“I know,” she whispers. 

He shakes his head. He rubs the back of his knuckles against her cheek, brushing some of her tears away. “Your soulmate is so lucky, Amy.” 

“You _are_ my soulmate.” Her voice is shaky, but sure. 

And god, it breaks his heart. Because he’s sure, too. 

But he has to say it. 

“No, Ames. I’m not.” 

Her voice quavers. “You are.” 

Jake shakes his head, trying his hardest not to let another sob interrupt him. “Teddy Wells is your soulmate.” 

_“You_ are my soulmate.” 

“I’m not,” he repeats. This time, he allows the little sob to make itself known. “We can’t keep doing this _—lying to ourselves.”_

“I love you.” It doesn’t sound like a statement as much as it sounds like she’s pleading with him. 

This time, he opens his arms for her. He expects her to lean into him. He doesn’t expect her to climb off of the couch entirely. He pulls her into his lap, holding her close on the confetti-littered floor. He hushes her, pressing kisses to her forehead, his fingers stroking through her hair. 

He’d been so excited for her birthday. This isn’t quite the way he expected it to go. 

“I love you, too,” he murmurs against her hair. She turns, hugging him tighter. “I love you so much.” He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. “That’s why I have to leave.” 

He feels her shake her head. “Come to bed with me.” 

“Ames—”

“Please,” she interrupts. “Just—wait until I’m sleeping. Please, Jake.” 

His arms wind around her a little tighter. If there’s nothing else he can do in this hell situation, he can at least do that for her. 

He carries her to bed—the same way he imagines he’d carry her to bed on their wedding night, if they could ever have one. He thinks about every time they’ve been wrapped up in sheets together. He thinks about every long night he will have to spend without her by his side. He thinks about every laugh, and every smile, and every soft, sleepy kiss he’s shared with her. He thinks about the spark, how explosive it felt that first time, fingers brushing together over a red colored pencil so many years ago. He still feels it now, what’s normally a soft, comfortable buzz seemingly more intense, as if it’s bartering with him to stay with her. 

All he wants is to stay with her. 

They both silently undress. They slide into her sheets, empty and exhausted. Her skin tingles against his. He kisses her face and her jaw, her neck and her shoulder. His fingers drag through her hair. She’s humming softly, and he knows she’s going to be sleeping peacefully in his arms within the next few minutes. His eyes fill with tears again. 

She surprises him when she twists in his arms, and even in the dark, even through his blurry vision, he can see the tears shining in her eyes. She touches his face gently. 

He nestles his nose against hers, begging for some of the intimacy he knows is being torn away from him tonight. Slowly, she presses her lips to his. It’s almost experimental, like she isn’t sure if they should be doing this. He’s sure that they shouldn’t be, but he kisses her back anyway. 

He kisses her until he’s certain that her sadness is no longer the reason for her shaky breathing. He kisses her soft and slow, kisses her like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, holding her close enough that he can almost trick himself into thinking she won’t slip away from him. A few minutes later, she’s helping him to gently press into her. 

She gasps against his lips, and for the first time in all the time that they’ve been together, the only sound in the room is their breathing. There are no whispered curses; no soft, pleading sounds. There’s Jake, and there’s Amy, and there’s the harsh, undeniable truth between them. 

This is all they have left. 

After a lifetime of loving each other, this is what it all comes down to. 

Every touch he offers her is laced with their impending goodbye. Every desperate breath they share, every well-practiced move they make, each tear that slips through the barriers they’re building—it’s all leading to the end. 

He holds her when they’re finished. She nestles her face into the crook of his neck, and he can feel her warm tears on his bare skin. He smooths his fingers through her hair, his trembling lips repeatedly pressing to her temple, his own tears streaming across his face. She’s clinging to him, her arms wrapped tight around him, unwilling to let him go. The spark is practically crackling between them. His mind wanders to that first time. 

He doesn’t tell her it’s okay. 

It isn’t okay. 

They both know it. 

She adjusts in his arms, her hand sliding up to rest against his face. She chases his tears away with her thumb, her eyes soft and serious on his. 

“It’s you,” she whispers. His eyebrows tug together, but she just shakes her head at him, her voice impossibly softer. “It’s you.” 

He slips his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers softly. He pulls her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm, then shifting to pull her against his chest. 

_Three hundred and twenty seven days._

Every day wasn’t perfect. 

But here, with her in his arms—it’s the closest to perfect that he will ever be again.

About an hour later, her breathing regulates and the tears stop flowing. He stays much longer than he needs to. He’s trying to soak up every last moment he can get. He doesn’t want to let her go. 

But he has to. 

Of all the times he’s dragged himself away from her, it’s never been quite like this. He dresses slowly, trying his hardest to keep his tears at bay. He loses his battle almost immediately. 

She looks so relaxed, like the past few hours never even happened. He kneels on the floor in front of her, his fingers gently sweeping a few strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. 

He knows he shouldn’t. He leans forward, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead, allowing his lips to linger. His eyes squeeze shut, allowing a few more tears to slip down his cheeks. He sniffles quietly, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. The tingling is almost unbearable, _begging_ him not to go. It’s all in his head, he’s sure. 

He strokes his fingers against her cheek lightly, careful not to wake her. 

“I love you so much.” 

He nuzzles his nose against hers, then presses one final kiss to her cheek. He pulls the blanket up a little higher on her, and it takes everything in him not to climb back into bed. 

“Goodbye, Ames.” 

He doesn’t look back as he leaves her room. If he does, he’ll turn back around. Every thought in his head is telling him to turn back around, getting louder with each step he takes. 

He locks her bottom lock as he steps out of her apartment. He just keeps walking—he has to keep walking. He has to put some distance between them before he changes his mind. 

Benji’s right. If he stays with her, he’s going to get her killed. He thought that’s what they were facing tonight. He doesn’t ever want to put her in a position like that again.

He isn’t sure what comes next. 

All he knows is that he still belongs to Amy Santiago. 

He’s got this ache in his chest that he’d guess feels about like a screwdriver lodged into your rib cage might feel. 

No matter where he goes, he will always be hers. 

He just never thought that would be a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w e l p

**Author's Note:**

> ¨̮


End file.
